


At the End of the Week

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Series: Phone Booth [1]
Category: Phone Booth (2002)
Genre: Alcohol, Hand Job, M/M, Phone Sex, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:04:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was secretly relieved when the man who had tried to kill me started calling me again. At least someone still cared if I was doing things right. Perhaps a little too much....</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End of the Week

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noondreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noondreams/gifts).



"Hello, Stu."

If I live to be a hundred, I don't think I will ever forget the sound of that voice. There was too much emotion tied to it to ever forget. An entire day held captive in a Phone Booth, an entire day of terror, until the police managed to trick my captor and rescue me. But then, as I was sitting in the back of an ambulance high on morphine, I heard the voice again. The man who had called me, who had held me hostage in a phone booth via a sniper rifle - the man who had threatened my life and the lives of the people I loved time and time again - stood in front of me, plain as day. He smiled at me with a generous, beautifully shaped mouth, complimented me on my shoes, and then reminded me to be good. Promised that he'd be watching. And before I could break through the drug induced haze to alert someone, he had walked away calmly, past the police, past the phone booth, with absolutely no fear of being caught.

I convinced myself that I'd hallucinated it, and for weeks I heard nothing. I changed, like I promised, though it was hard - I felt like a fish out of water, floundering, trying to find something familiar to sustain me. My change in behaviour drove a rift between Kelly and I immediately, deepening the sense of distrust already existing from my revelation of my intended infidelity with Pam.

Then he'd called, the man from the phone booth. Just a short call, to remind me that he was still watching. To tell me that he was very proud of me, that I was doing very well. I wanted to hate him for it, but the emotion it evoked in me was a strange sense of relief. Of comfort, that at least someone was pleased with my attempts to be honest.

The calls continued, slowly increasing in frequency. I didn't tell Kelly. I didn't tell anyone, though I knew I should go to the police. Rationally, I knew that this man was dangerous. He'd threatened my life, and when it came down to it, he was the source of all the trouble I was having in my life. But I couldn't pretend anymore, couldn't rationalize away my actions, my former lifestyle. I'd been a liar and a cheat, and I deserved all the trouble that had come my way. I didn't go to the police when he called, because I needed what he gave me. I needed someone, anyone to encourage me.

The summer ended, and I felt even more alone. When Kelly went off to some end of summer work function, I pulled the mickey of whiskey from the top of the pantry and poured myself a drink, then another, then a third.

I had just reached the warm, fuzzy bliss of drunkenness when my phone rang. Private number, as always. I answered it, though I knew full well who it was. "Stu."

"Hello, Stu. Are you enjoying your Saturday evening?"

"You called me on Tuesday," I replied, and heard him chuckle softly.

"Aren't I allowed to call you more than once a week? How are you, Stu?"

I had long since given up trying to hide anything from him. I found the earpiece for my phone and hooked it over my ear, acivating it. "I'm lousy. Kelly's gone out for work again, and I... I mean, she says she loves me and forgives me, but... it's started to feel like she doesn't want to be around me anymore. Like she's ashamed to be seen with me."

"She has no reason to be ashamed of you," I heard him reply, a slight growl to his rich voice. His anger, even not directed at me, was a little too much for me to handle in the moment.

I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure that I'll be very good company tonight. I'm kind of drunk."

"I know," the caller replied, his voice softening immediately. "It's all right, Stu. You're fine company. Why don't you head into your room and relax? You'll feel better if you're more comfortable."

"I guess." It was easier not to argue with him, and I had no reason to. I put the whisky back in the pantry and turned off the kitchen light, retreating to our bedroom and closing the door behind me. I left the light off, flicking on the lamp beside the bed instead.

"You should take off your tie," he suggested, and I glanced around the room.

"Don't tell me you have cameras in my fucking apartment."

A soft chuckle. "Language, Stu. And no, I don't have any cameras in your lovely apartment, I just know you. Why, would you like me to install some?"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you? Watching my wife in her underwear?" I set my cell on the bedside table and took off my tie, draping it over the chair that I'd left my jacket on earlier.

"I would, but not for that reason. Sit back and relax, I imagine you're feeling rather intoxicated."

Not for that reason? I was silent for a moment, trying to figure out his words. "If you can't see me, how do you know that I'm drunk?"

"I can hear it in your voice, of course. You've had a rough week, Stu. Lay down."

I stretched out without questioning. I'd never admit it to him, but it was a bit of a relief just to do whatever he told me to like I always had. To let go of all the struggles I'd faced throughout the week. "Why are you calling?" I asked, hearing a slight slur in my own voice.

"I thought you might enjoy some company," he replied, and something about the way his voice lowered slightly made me think of things I definitely shouldn't, things I hadn't done with Kelly since long before the day in the phone booth. "One thing I've noticed about you, Stu," he continued, "is that you never relax. Now, I'm not saying that your dedication isn't admirable, but you really do need to take some time to yourself without me having to tell you to do so."

I couldn't quite tell whether or not he was displeased with me. "I'm... sorry?"

"It's all right. Though I do appreciate your willingness to apologize, it's very noble of you. Now, I want you to just lie back and close your eyes. Just listen to the sound of my voice and do as I say, and you'll feel much better. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," I replied softly, unsure of what he meant to do but not wanting to displease him, not wanting the call to end.

"Good," he replied. "That pleases me very much, Stu. Now, go ahead and unbutton your shirt.

I opened my eyes in confusion even as my fingers moved to obey. "You want me to... take off my shirt?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice definately huskier now. "And your undershirt, too, please."

I pulled my shirt off and set it aside, hesitating only a moment before pulling my undershirt off as well. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you," came the low reply, and despite myself I felt a shudder of arousal run down my spine.

"All right," I replied, laying back down slowly, still not quite sure what to think about this, how to feel. "I've done as you asked."

"Thank you, Stu." His voice was still low, but undeniably proud, giving me the approval I craved so badly. "Your obedience pleases me very much, I want you to know that. Run your palms from your stomach up to your shoulders, slowly, and then back down. I want you to feel your own skin, feel how beautiful you are."

My fingers were whispering over my skin before I could stop myself, over my chest and shoulders, roaming. "I'm not...."

"Are you saying that I'm lying to you, Stu?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, stung by the question. "Of course not."

"Then you must trust what I say. You're beautiful. You just need to learn to see as I do. Are your hands warm on your skin, Stu? How does it feel?"

"Better than it should," I replied frankly, my own touch turning unintentionally teasing.

"There's nothing wrong with feeling good," he replied. "Let your fingertips brush your nipples. Pinch them. Make them ache."

A soft sigh of pleasure escaped my lips as I did, and I could feel my cock throb between my legs, though it was more from his words, from the sound of his voice than from the touch of my own hands. I wanted to argue with him, to tell him that there was something very wrong about feeling good while following sexual instructions being given to you over the phone by someone who once tried to kill you. "How far are you going to take this?" My voice was unintentionally thick when I answered, and I swallowed hard, part of me still not wanting to give him the power of knowing what he did to me.

"I don't do anything half way, Stu. You should know that by now. If you want this to end, all you need to do is hang up the phone, and we can talk again next week. Now, use one hand to rub your thigh, slowly, up and down. Let your fingers tease along the inseam of your slacks."

I couldn't ignore the desire in his voice, the low, husky tones that were very quickly making me much harder than I'd ever intended to be. I bit my lip to muffle a whimper, squirming a little on the bed as I stroked my thigh, feeling my cock harden more in my pants. I could hang up the phone. I should hang up the phone, all it would take was a push of a button. Or I could do this. I closed my eyes, tuning out the play of the lamp on the ceiling, tuning out the bedroom I shared with Kelly, focusing just on his voice. "You won't end the call?"

"I promise I won't," came the warm reply. "You've been so good, Stu, so well behaved. I won't get you all hot and bothered and then leave you, I'm not some woman. Let me reward you."

I should have laughed at the concept of this being rewarding, but the more he talked, the more I wanted it. "All right," I half whispered. "Tell me what you want me to do."

I heard a soft, pleased hum from the other end of the phone, more than a little salacious. But the approval was just as much of a turn on for me as anything else, just as much of what I craved. "Good. Your willingness pleases me very much, Stu. I hope you know that. Keep rubbing your thigh like that, but only your thigh. You can use your other hand above your waist however you like - your chest, your nipples, your sweet lips. Tell me how you feel."

"I - I'm really hard," I managed to answer, hearing my voice shake, feeling my erection pulse just from the admittance. "I shouldn't be this turned on, I - "

"Shh. Don't think about that. There's nothing wrong with feeling desire, with being aroused. With being desired. You're a beautiful man, Stu. Slide your hand up for me. Tease your cock through your pants with your fingertips, lightly." My heart felt like it was pounding a mile a minute, but my hand was moving even before he'd stopped speaking, and I whimpered as my fingers ran along the length of my erection through the thin fabric of my slacks. I heard the softest moan from the other end of the phone. "How does that feel, Stu?"

"Like torture," I breathed, still teasing myself, resisting the urge to pull open my pants and wrap my fingers around my cock. But his little moan had sounded so good, like a warm kiss to my skin. I wanted more. "I'm so hard. You make me...."

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and there was no mistaking the desire in his voice now. "Touch yourself, then. Cup that hard cock through your slacks. Squeeze it, rub it. Let me hear how good it feels."

I was moaning even before he'd finished, hips arching up against my hand as I palmed my erection, craving more sensation. "Oh god."

"That's it. Give me more, Stu. Unbutton those pretty Italian trousers and slip your hand down into your shorts. Tell me what it feels like."

My fingers tugged, trembling, at my fly, and I pushed my hand into my boxers to curl around my cock. I hadn't craved something this much in a very long time, and I groaned. "So good. Oh god, it's been too long. Fuck...."

"Slip out of the rest of your clothes. Make things easier," he murmured, and his voice sounded as laboured as mine. I kicked off my slacks and shorts, and had barely laid back when he was talking again. "I want you to wrap your fingers around the base of that thick cock," he told me. "Stroke yourself, slowly. Root to tip. Let me hear you."

"God..." It was almost painful to move slowly when all I wanted was to jerk myself hard and fast until I came. I imagined his hand as I curled my own around my erection, and I whimpered as I began to stroke myself. The same hand that had wrapped around a high powered sniper rifle, that had squeezed the trigger... oh god, why did I find the thought of that hot?"

"Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what you're feeling." His voice hitched, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was following his own instructions, that beautiful mouth half open in pleasure as he jerked himself. But I couldn't ask that.

"I'm thinking about your hands," I managed to whimper, stroking myself a little faster with a helpless moan. "Thinking about what they'd feel like. I can't help it, I'm sorry - "

"It's all right." From the shudder in his voice it was more than all right, and the knowledge that I was turning him on was a heady feeling, almost as arousing as what I was doing to myself. "Are you wet, Stu? Circle the head of your cock with your thumb. Let your fingers slick over your skin. You can picture my hands if you like."

I ran my thumb over the tip of my erection, slicking through precome, pressing into the slit. I couldn't hold back from groaning at the shudders of sensation that washed through me from it. He'd be very certain in his touch, firm and sure, and I tried to touch myself like that. "I am. Oh god, you feel so good. God, please...."

There was a low groan on the other end of the phone, but he didn't stop talking. "Please, Stu? You want more, you want me to stroke that thick cock hard and fast, you want me to make you moan? Show me, Stu. Do it."

"Yes..." I didn't try to keep quiet, working my cock faster, my breath in trembling moans. Part of me still couldn't believe that I was doing this, but the rest of me wanted it so goddamn bad, hips bucking up, thrusting into my own fingers. "Fuck!"

"That's it...." I could hear him swallow, hear the pleasure in his voice. "Come on, Stu. Let me hear how good it feels. You sound amazing, you sound so fucking beautiful."

It was intoxicating, the sound of his voice, his encouragement, mixed with the fantasy of those dangerous hands on my body, working my cock. I couldn't stop the helpless cries that came from my throat with each breath, my entire body shuddering, craving release. "Oh god...!"

"You're so close, aren't you?" From the thickness in his voice, the breathlessness, it was easy to imagine that he was too, something that only added to the storm of pleasure and sensation churning inside of me. "Come on, Stu. Come for me, let me hear you jerk all over yourself, let me hear how good it feels."

Some kind of helpless, almost strangled groan passed my lips, and I would have been self conscious about it if his words hadn't driven me to climax. My breath was a series of choked cries, catching in my throat as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through me. On the other end of the phone I heard a long, shuddering exhalation of breath followed by a sharp gasp, and then nothing but silence as my body tried to come back to itself.

When my brain was finally capable of coherent thought again, I swallowed hard, suddenly a little frightened by his silence. "Are you still there?"

"I'm still here." His voice was low and warm, and so incredibly sated that I felt a rush of almost pride from it, closing my eyes and giving up all thought of movement any time soon. "That was beautiful, Stu. I hope you feel more relaxed now."

I gave a soft, breathless laugh. The thought of what I'd just did was a little overwhelming, but at the same time it had felt so good. When was the last time another person had given me pleasure like that? The fact that he was a man and the fact that it was over the phone and everything else that had happened between us was weird as hell, yeah. But I couldn't deny how much I'd liked it. "I am. Thank you."

He gave a soft chuckle. "You're very welcome. Thank you. Now, I know you're exhausted, but I need to talk to you about one more thing before I let you sleep, Stu. The whiskey that you were drinking concerns me very much."

I felt a rush of shame. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "It just... it's a lot to take sometimes."

"I know. But you don't need alcohol, Stu," he said softly, but instead of disapproving, his voice was reassuring. "You're strong enough to face life without it. I'll be here to support you. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," I breathed, and closed my eyes.

"Good," he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "You'll pour away the rest of that whiskey tomorrow for me, won't you, Stu? Don't buy any more."

I hesitated, breathing out in a long, shivering sigh, and braved the question that had been eating away at me for weeks. "Will you keep calling me?"

I heard him chuckle, soft and pleased. "As long as you behave yourself."

~~~~~


End file.
